


Three

by theficisalie



Series: Night Dust [1]
Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 05:58:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theficisalie/pseuds/theficisalie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The faded past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three

**Author's Note:**

> beta: [kazzbot](http://kazzbot.livejournal.com)

“You got the goods, pintsize?”

Frank struggled against the bodies holding his arms behind his back, but he couldn’t break free. He didn’t owe these shitty Waves nothing.

He wasn’t sure how their little meet-and-greet had gone so bad, so fast. Frank swapping them a bag of pills in exchange for hiding out in this dead-end-fucking-warehouse should have been the end of it, but the jackass with green hair was apparently feeling fucking _greedy_ today. He’d demanded a second bag of pills which Frank _obviously_ hadn’t brought with him. Then he’d stuck the fucking ape goons he’d brought with him on Frank before Frank had been able to tear Green Hair’s head off.

Well, Frank wasn’t going anywhere now, clearly. So, he spat in the face of the jack-fucking-ass with green hair who was fucking interrogating him like he was a prisoner.

“You’re _dead_ , you fucking shitty-ass punk!” Green Hair roared, and he had a gun pointed at Frank’s face before Frank could blink.

“Do it,” Frank snarled. A challenge. He met Green Hair’s eyes, and the dick just fucking _smirked_. He was too fucking afraid to shoot someone in cold blood, but Frank had had it up to _here_ with these shitheads and their pansy fucking _deals_. “Fucking _do it_ , you coward fuck.”

“One day, you’re gonna regret running your fucking mouth off, pintsize,” Green Hair snarled. He reached back to cock his gun, but a high-pitched scream of light caught him between the eyes before he could complete the action.

The muscleheads behind Frank grunted and let him go to locate their attacker. He leaped at one of them, grabbing him by the throat and using the momentum of his jump to take the goon down to the ground. He scrambled away as soon as he was free: whoever had shot Green Hair was probably coming for him.

But before he could get away a hand wrapped around his mouth. He felt the still warm nose of a flasher in his ear as he was dragged around the corner.

Whoever was holding their hand over his mouth was too fucking _smart_. They dodged his half-assed kick and the elbow he tried to drive in to their ribs and kept their hold on his mouth so he couldn’t shout or bite. _Fuck._

“Listen, peanut,” they whispered, and fuck Frank’s _life_ , he’d been detained by a fucking _girl_. “You’re gonna stop wigglin’ or I’m gonna knock you the fuck out and I ain’t gonna apologize later. Nod if you understand and are gonna stop bein’ a little shit.”

Frank thought about struggling some more, but. Well. Whoever it was, they hadn’t actually knocked him out yet, they hadn’t shoved any pills or drinks down his throat, and they weren’t the Company.

He nodded.

“Good. Now shut the fuck up and watch.”

The hand dropped from his face, and Frank leaned forward, peering out around the corner.

There, in the middle of the warehouse, were the Wave Heads that had so recently tried to rip Frank off. And...behind a crate, a flash of white that made Frank pause. A lone Drac emerged, gun at the ready.

“This is the fun part, peanut,” the girl behind Frank said, pressing her hand with her gun to the side of his face. He held his breath, and closed his eyes when she fired. White flared behind his eyes, and he wasn’t sure if she’d hit the thing or not, because, hello, he was probably _blind_ now.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ ,” he swore, rubbing his eyes.

She just laughed. “First mistake, dealing with a gang of fucking ‘Heads. Second mistake, not having a weapon on you.”

“I got a fucking weapon,” Frank growled, but she had him pressed up against a wall before he could blink the spots from his eyes. “Fucking...get off me.”

“Shut your pretty little mouth,” she whispered, eyes sharp. “Now, I saved you, so you gotta show me some fucking thanks. I’ve seen you ‘round the clubs, and if you don’t wanna get hauled in by your teeny tiny toes I’d advise you to listen the fuck up.”

“Fine,” Frank gritted out when she pressed the barrel of her gun up under his chin.

“Uh huh, sure as shit it’s fine,” she said. “I’m Glitter. _You_ are small and angry. And you bruised my shin. So I’m callin’ ya Peanut. ‘Til you get a gun, you don’t get to pick a name. Rules of the fuckin’ zones.”

“Zones,” Frank spat. “Fuck the zones. No way am I going out to the dirty fucking desert.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She laughed and let him loose. He rubbed at his jaw, where Green-Hair-Punk had landed a solid hit. “You got somewhere to sleep, Nut?”

He couldn’t really argue with the name: she _had_ saved his life not a minute ago. “Apartment.”

She flapped a hand. “Fuck that noise. You come with me: we’ve got music and liquor underground. That’s where you wanna be.”

Frank hesitated. His mom had taught him not to go off with strangers, but he’d long since foregone that rule. “Food, too?”

“You off the pills?” she asked, and her smile was wide. “Fuck yeah, we got food for you. Can you drive stick?”

“Dunno what any of those words meant,” he admitted, flinching when she flung an arm around his shoulders.

She laughed, loud and bright. “Stick with me, kid, you’ll go fuckin’ far.”

* * * *

Glitter slid another glass across the counter, her eyes bright as she told Cobra for the hundredth time about the loot they’d scored off a pack of wolves in their own fucking territory.

“You mentioned it,” Cobra said, his own eyes glittering and dark in the lights of the club. Frank downed his shot and leaned his chin on his arms, just watching them move in sync. “Don’t tell Thriller, huh?”

“I won’t,” she said, and it sounded like a real serious promise.

Cobra snorted and moved to the other end of the bar to top up the glass of the blue haired chick. Glitter was still smiling when Frank cleared his throat.

“Somethin’ on your mind, Peanut? You did good, by the way. Out in the zones today. Good driving.”

“We can’t tell Thriller,” he said. “Why?”

“Him and boss Wolf got a history,” she said with a shrug. “He doesn’t like us messin’ with ‘em. Says we oughta not go into their territory. But rules are meant to be fuckin’ broken. ‘Specially around here.”

“What kinda history?” Frank asked. He wasn’t sure if she would answer, or if she even could.

“The wayback kind,” Glitter said, pouring a shot for her and for Frank. “The Hat Trick kind. Rumour says he’s got a third friend, but nobody knows his name. I hear he’s called Sandman, but I can’t confirm details.”

“And what, we can’t mess with any of ‘em?” Frank asked. “That’s no fun.”

“That’s why I like you, Peanut,” Glitter said. “You know where it’s at.”

He chuckled, and downed whatever she’d poured for him. It burned all the way down, but it felt good, like something he’d earned. She was about to move away, towards Cobra, when Frank cleared his throat again.

“Yeah, Nut,” she said, amused.

“Hey, uh. Back when, uh. In that warehouse,” Frank said. “Why. Why’d you pick me? People die in the city, the zones, all the time. How’d I get...I mean. You know?”

“Uh huh,” she said. “I was in the neighbour--”

“No,” Frank said. “I don’t want crap. I want a real answer, or no answer. No fucking in-betweens.”

Glitter ran her finger around the edge of her shot glass. She was quiet before she talked, listening to the noise of the Rat Crew cleaning up the wreckage of the club. “Thriller watches everyone who comes in here, you know. Guards the door, checks everyone out. He saw you’d been coming, got someone to check up on you. Said you showed promise, the way you threw yourself into the music on band nights. Wondered if you needed help getting off the pills. And he sent me to tail you that night. Looked like you could use a hand there, like you got yourself in a bad crowd and just needed the right one to pick you up and give you an invite. So I did.”

“Oh,” Frank said. He frowned. “Promise?”

“We needed a driver,” she said, grinning. “Thriller can pick a skillset out of any crowd. Ask him sometime. He picks gems and gives them the tools to clean themselves off, and they usually take the Company down hollerin’ with ‘em.”

“Right,” Frank said, laughing when she offered her glass up to his for a toast.

“To Thriller,” she said.

“To Thriller.”

* * * *

Sometimes it felt like he could run forever. Like maybe, if he just kept going, he’d outrun the Company, the desert, the world.

Sometimes, he rounded a corner and someone was there, someone he could take down with a hit or two. Sometimes he took a hit back, but he always had his legs, and he always ran away.

Only, this one time, they weren’t Dracs.

One time, they were something else. Something bigger and stronger and far, far worse. Something that had all but his legs disabled within seconds, and his back up against a hard, brick wall.

One time, they told him to surrender or die, and he chose the second option.

* * * *

One time, Frank woke up in a room that was whiter than death except for the single sentence that flashed black on the white, white wall:

_TAKE YOUR PILLS  
OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES;  
AND REMEMBER TO KEEP SMILING._

__

BL/ind thanks you for your cooperation, citizen.  
Have a nice day.


End file.
